


Kiss Me Like You Run

by alex_wh0



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Exy (All For The Game), Andrew is a gay disaster, Blow Jobs, Enthusiastic Consent, Gay Panic, Gym Sex, M/M, Rimming, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:07:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23082952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alex_wh0/pseuds/alex_wh0
Summary: Andrew 'gay disaster' Minyard and Neil 'sassy' Josten  feat. an unsuspecting treadmill and a lot of banter.
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 32
Kudos: 405





	Kiss Me Like You Run

From the bench he was sitting on, Andrew Minyard had a perfect, uninterrupted view of the treadmill. Placing his weights on the ground, he arched his back and looked at Josten’s sweaty body, tracing the movement of his muscles beneath the loose tank top that was now stuck to his back.

Neil Josten hated working out indoors and Andrew hated Neil Josten; it all worked itself out.

“Neil!” Nicky squealed from across the room, and Andrew wanted to throttle his cousin. One did not simply walk up to Neil Josten and strike up a conversation, no. It involved steps, which might or might not involve a lot of surreptitious glances, careful blank mask in place when subjected to a smile, and a general appreciation of very short gym shorts. 

He watched as Neil turned in the general direction of Nicky’s voice, and silently admired the ball of his shoulder and taut line of his neck.

“Nicky. What’s up?”

“What are you doing here?”

“It’s raining outside,” Neil told Nicky, features softening imperceptibly. Another lesser mortal wouldn’t have noticed it, but Andrew wasn’t a lesser mortal; he was a perfectly adequate mortal who had the lines of Josten’s face memorised to a fault.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here today,” Nicky said with a salacious grin, even as Andrew rolled his eyes.

Really, now, there was no necessity to be _this_ excited to see Josten’s face. _Damn, Josten’s face._

Andrew scowled. A voice in his head that suspiciously sounded like his twin called him pathetic. Andrew disagreed, though. He knew what he was doing.

Josten slowed down a little, only a little, while speaking to Nicky, and Andrew’s gaze now travelled to his shorts. They should be declared illegal, he thought, looking at the black shorts that ended right after the curve of Josten’s butt. It was a nice-looking butt, Andrew thought cocking his head to the side, trying to think objectively, but failing anyway. Josten had a fantastic ass, and unfortunately for Andrew, half the university seemed to agree with the statement, much to his consternation. If he could, Andrew would keep everyone away from the route Josten ran every day. It was in the best interests of the rest of the university, obviously. _Obviously._ Andrew wouldn’t know an ulterior motive even if it offered him a million dollars.

Realising belatedly that he could only hear Nicky’s voice -- cheerful, exaggerated and very, very loud, he looked up.

_A mistake._

Andrew Minyard didn’t like mistakes; he liked to think that he had the common sense to not make any. But evidence to the contrary was now looking at him from the floor-to-ceiling mirrors that covered the walls of the gym. Neil Josten, hot athlete, sweaty mess, subject of Andrew’s recurring fantasies, and the bane of his entire existence, had his blue eyes trained on him. And then to Andrew’s horror, Josten smirked and proceeded to wink at him. Andrew felt something hot flash through his body, liquefying everything in its wake. Neil Josten was a fucking mistake.

He got up and dashed out, acutely aware of the pink flush now creeping up his neck and the silence his abrupt departure had caused.

*

“You know you could go talk to him.”

Andrew’s head snapped up, trying to locate him.

Aaron sighed, “Behind you at the counter, far left.”

Andrew schooled his features and then immediately scowled at his twin. “Now, why would I do that?”

“Because looking at you mope is giving me a headache. Do you know what I don’t like, Andrew?”

“Moping and headaches?”

“Correct. So, for the love of a god you and I both don’t believe in, just go talk to him.”

Andrew, however, believed in a god that had made Josten the way he was. He turned slightly to his left, trying to take a stealthy look at Josten, and sucked in a breath, even as Kevin slid into the seat next to Aaron.

“What’s Andrew looking at?”

“Josten.”

Andrew turned to glare at Aaron and Kevin. “No, I wasn’t.”

“Okay, Josten’s leggings then.”

Andrew closed his eyes in irritation. The room did not have enough oxygen. “I was not looking at anyone’s leggings.”

_Oh but he was._

“Sure,” Aaron and Kevin chorused, exchanging smirks, and Andrew wanted to push them under the table.

“You know, he’s not half bad,” Kevin remarked, tucking into a plate of salad with unnecessary enthusiasm.

“I thought you hated everyone on the track team?”

“I like him.”

“You like whom?” came a voice from their left and the three of them froze. Andrew could hear the blood pound through his ears, and felt his cheeks flush before looking up. Neil Josten, star athlete of the track team, Kevin’s “not-so-bad” friend, wearer of unnecessarily tight leggings that outlined the muscles of his thighs, and the bane of Andrew’s entire existence, stood in front of them, balancing a dinner tray in his hands, wearing an expectant look on his face.

Aaron was the first to recover with a hasty “Josten.” Kevin was next; he smiled and exclaimed, “Neil!”, and Andrew frowned.

“Um can I sit with you guys? If you don’t mind that is,” Neil shuffled, scuffing the heel of his shoe on the edge of the table’s leg. Kevin grinned and Andrew felt betrayed.

“Of course. Andrew, move over. Let Neil sit.” Andrew wanted to throttle Kevin, but scooted over anyway, and scowled up at Neil.

_A mistake._

Neil smiled at him, not the razor-edged version he flashed at everyone else, but something softer. Andrew quickly averted his eyes to his plate. Dinner seemed infinitely unappealing now. He felt Neil’s presence next to him calling out to him like a siren song; he felt the heat from his body as Neil’s hoodie brushed against his arm; he acutely felt all his nerve endings singing with an anticipation that had no destination in mind.

By the time he dragged his mind back to the present, Neil and Kevin were loudly discussing the finer points of a game they had both watched last night, and Aaron was picking at his food, shooting him smug looks every now and then.

_It was too much, too much, too much._

When Neil’s knee accidentally brushed against his under the table, Andrew jumped up, as though scalded. His heart felt like it was going a mile a minute and he felt heat pooling in his stomach.

“I’ve got to go. Assignments,” he said, clearing his throat, leaving behind an untouched plate and three confused glances following his retreating figure.

Later, in the safety of his dorm room, when his heart rate had slowed down to an acceptable state, he realised that there had been four empty tables around them in the cafeteria. And Neil Josten had chosen to sit with them. He had chosen to sit next to Andrew.

_Fucking Josten._

*

There were 30 minutes left until the library shut, but Andrew ignored it and made his way through the psychology section with a single-minded focus. He had two more assignments to finish and his hair was beginning to crackle with the pent-up stress. He pushed aside four books and was reaching for one on the top shelf when he heard a cough behind him. Not the pneumonia kind, but the “hello I’m trying to be discreet in attracting your attention” kind.

Neil Josten stood in aisle 4 of the psychology section in the main library, looking like a wet dream from Andrew’s fantasies. Andrew blinked at him owlishly and pushed his glasses up his nose, trying to ignore the way his body was reacting to Josten’s presence.

“Um, hi,” Josten said, sounding uncharacteristically hesitant, sending Andrew’s heartbeat into overdrive. _Kiss me_ , his mind supplied; “Josten,” he said, instead.

“Need help?”

Andrew blinked once more, brain short circuiting itself at Neil Josten talking to him. Damn, he wished he could panic-google “7 ways to react when the bane of your existence talks to you for the first time”.

“If you could write a paper on Carl Jung’s methods of analytical psychology and one on the widespread assumption that free will is a necessary condition of moral responsibility in under 8 hours, that would be fantastic.”

Josten blinked for a second, and burst into laughter – a sharp, fragile and delicate sound so surprising that Andrew wanted to kiss him then and there, right in the middle of aisle four of the psychology section. “I don’t know shit about psychology,” he huffed, “I’m more a math person,” and then looked at his shoes, rubbing his right hand over the back of his neck.

Andrew felt the first faint stirrings of interest rear its head in the pit of his gut, sending tendrils of warmth snaking through this chest, and he struggled to tamp it down while wearing a cool expression that fooled no one.

“I don’t know how to break this to you,” he began, dramatically lowering his voice, and Josten looked back up at him. “But we’re standing in the psychology section.”

Josten smirked and took a step toward him, and Andrew willed himself to stand his ground, which resulted in the two of them standing inches apart, caged in by books and lit up by the harsh light of the place.

“But I’m not here for the psychology books,” he whispered into the space between them, and Andrew gulped.

“Got lost then? Directions for Dummies must be near the entrance.”

Josten took a step impossibly closer and looked at him intently, and Andrew had the distinct impression that he was being x-rayed. “Yeah. But do you know where Kissing for Dummies is?”

Andrew’s breath hitched slightly and he took a step back, hitting the book shelf behind him. “Are you calling yourself a dummy?” he said, voice rough with undisguised want, and Neil just hummed.

“Definitely. I haven’t really kissed anyone.”

Andrew stared up at him, acutely aware of the three inches Josten had on him. A distant part of his mind noticed that Neil hadn’t moved from his spot, which unfortunately left more space between them, but fortunately didn’t cage him. He didn’t know if he should be annoyed or relieved about it.

“Are you shitting me?”

“No. Why would I?” Josten said, head tilted to one side, as though he was genuinely curious about Andrew’s question. Andrew hated him. He gestured vaguely with one hand, trying to articulate _because you’re the most popular guy on campus, because you are interesting, because when you open your mouth to speak, all I want to do is kiss it shut,_ and failing. But it looked like Josten understood anyway.

“Bullshit,” he said, sounding annoyed, and then turned the full force of his gaze onto Andrew’s. He took a deep breath and balled his fists, a gesture not lost on Andrew.

“Andrew.”

He shivered, hearing his name roll off Josten’s tongue, sounding foreign and different and so hot that Andrew wanted to set it as his alarm tone, ring tone and have it play forever on every radio station that existed.

Neil leaned in slightly, gaze dropping to Andrew’s lips for the briefest moment. “I really, really want to kiss you. Can I?” And the only thing Andrew could do in that moment was nod. But Neil didn’t lean in any further. “I need a yes or no,” he said gently, and Andrew jolted.

 _A mistake._ Neil Josten was all kinds of trouble and he should stay away from his unfairly pretty face.

“Yes,” he breathed out and Neil leaned into his space carefully. “Where can I touch you?”

Andrew felt like he was removed from his body as he said, “shoulders”, and inched closer toward Josten. He expected Josten’s lips to slam into his, expected something feral and urgent, expected him to take and take and take. Instead, he felt the gentle press of slightly chapped lips against his – soft and sweet and slow, the pressure on his shoulders light, and before he could say “Jesus fucking Christ” Neil moved back a step, his expression unguarded and vulnerable and Andrew felt his insides lurch like they were on a pirate ship caught in a raging storm.

Before he could think of questioning his decision, he pulled Josten in by his neck and kissed him feverishly, urgently, and heard him make a sound in his throat that awoke all his senses. Andrew licked the seam of Josten’s lips, who opened his mouth on a moan. Andrew gripped him harder, brushing his tongue against his, drawing out another moan, this one louder. Neil stepped back when they came up for air, panting like he did at the end of his runs, and Andrew felt a frisson of satisfaction rip through him. _Good_.

“Josten,” he said, voice sounding ragged to his own ears, but he cut Andrew off mid-sentence.

“Neil, call me Neil,” he whispered, sounding as breathless as Andrew felt, and gave him a lingering look before walking way. “I really like you, Andrew Minyard.”

Neil Josten, troublemaker, math nerd, sassy piece of shit in possession of glaringly orange hoodies, and the bane of Andrew’s entire existence had just kissed him, and Andrew felt lightheaded as he touched his lips, feeling it tingling long after Neil had left.

*

They kissed four times in two days after that; one in the library’s math section where Andrew found Neil revising for a test, one in the storage closet near the lecture hall in the art department, and two outside the door of Andrew’s dorm. All four were stolen kisses – devastating like fireworks when you least expect them, all of them making Andrew feel and feel and _feel_.

He was currently curled up in bed, cigarette dangling from his lips, textbook propped against his pillow, when he heard someone knock on the main door. He knew Aaron would get it, and idly turned a page. A minute later, he heard Aaron yell “Josten’s here” outside his door, and Andrew sat up so abruptly that the cigarette clattered onto the book. He opened his door to find Neil standing awkwardly, looking like he regretted every decision that led him to this moment.

Andrew just looked at him and went back inside, leaving the door open in a silent invitation. Neil – he was Neil now – cleared his throat, a nervous gesture that Andrew recognized.

“Spit it out.”

“I’d rather swallow.”

And Andrew _choked_ on air. _This was a terrible fucking mistake._

“Neil,” he warned, annoyance and exasperation jostling for dominance in between the spaces of the single word.

“Can I blow you?”

“No.”

If he noticed Neil’s expression falling slightly, he didn’t comment on it. “I have boundaries, Neil. Not now. How about I blow you?”

Neil pouted but acquiesced, “I want to make you feel good too.” Andrew felt his heart grow two sizes, but ignored it furiously, shifting his attention to Neil’s clothes instead. He hooked two fingers under the hem of his hoodie and was about to pull it up, but Neil stopped him with a touch.

“Neil?”

He fidgeted and moved to sit on the bed, looking unsure enough to stoke Andrew’s concern.

“What is it?”

“I have scars.”

“I know.” Neil looked up sharply, and Andrew sighed, joining him on the bed, one leg folded under his thigh, the other dangling over the side.

“I’ve seen you in gym. I’ve seen you run every morning. I’ve seen you wipe your face with your sweaty shirt. I’ve seen the scars. I don’t care how you look,” he bit out, and then, “I want you.”

Neil looked nonplussed for a second before a grin threatened to split his face in two. “You watch me every day? That’s creepy, Andrew.” Andrew shoved him onto the bed and ripped his hoodie off, mussing his hair in the process, and froze.

“Andrew?” Neil propped himself up on his elbows and looked at him, concerned. “What’s wrong?”

Andrew couldn’t do anything but stare at the offending pair of leggings. “So tight,” he managed to choke out and Neil fell back, laughing.

“Did I mention I’m not wearing anything underneath?”

“Neil,” he all but growled and peeled the grey leggings off, throwing them across the room. He really wasn’t lying, Andrew thought, before he bent down and kissed him slow and deep.

“I want to blow you. Yes or no?”

“Yes, yes and yes,” Neil gasped, making Andrew smirk. “That was _one_ question, you idiot.”

Andrew brought Neil’s hands and placed them in his hair, silently giving him permission, and proceeded to suck on a sensitive spot on his neck, leaving a mark. He drew back and looked at it, secretly satisfied. Neil grew more and more incoherent as Andrew bit, licked and sucked his way down his chest and stomach. He kissed his hipbones and moved to his inner thighs, drawing out a long, annoyed whine from Neil and hid his smirk in the crook of his knee. Before Neil could complain, he moved up and swallowed him whole, hollowing his cheeks and working his tongue expertly, enjoying the feeling of Neil falling apart slowly under him.

Minutes, hours and seconds later, Neil came and came and came so hard that Andrew had to kiss the tears off his face.

“That was phenomenal.”

Andrew huffed and subtly adjusted himself, but Neil in his post-delirious state noticed anyway. “Do you want me to-”

“No,” Andrew cut him off. “Not today.” Neil didn’t say anything, just smiled back, sated and sleepy.

Neil Josten, part pipedream, part solidly real hallucination, kisser par excellence, infuriating idiot and the absolute bane of Andrew’s entire existence, was stretched out on Andrew’s bed, soaking up the sunlight like a warm cat, and his heart swelled and swelled and swelled.

*

The gym was nearly empty. It was Friday night and almost everyone was out somewhere having a good time and here Andrew was, sitting in the gym, looking at Neil run on the treadmill, having a good time. He kept his weights away, pushed the door shut, locking it behind him and felt Neil’s eyes on him, following him around like an overly inquisitive cat.

He pulled his shirt off in a smooth move he had definitely not perfected over the weekend, and walked towards Neil, very aware of the way his arms looked, muscles rippling, accentuated by the black armbands he always wore. Neil stumbled on the treadmill and Andrew smirked at him through the mirror. He stepped up behind Neil, feet firmly planted on the frame on either side of running belt, wrapped an arm around his waist and whispered “keep moving” into his ear.

He was close enough to hear Neil’s breath hitch, close enough to lick the beads of sweat making their way down the back of his neck, close enough to gently bite down on his shoulder, all while Neil was running; a little slower now, but still running. But when Andrew ran a hand up his shirt and grasped his hip, he slammed his hand on the power button, bringing the machine to a grinding halt.

Andrew flushed when Neil turned around and dragged his gaze over his arms and chest. “Where can I touch you,” he asked, as Andrew pushed him against the console.

“Anywhere above the waist,” he replied, yanking Neil’s shirt off, kissing a scar on his chest, and felt him shiver slightly.

“Andrew, there are three cameras in here,” Neil gasped wetly as Andrew sucked on his nipple.

“I know. I disabled them when we came in.”

He looked up to see Neil staring at him before a shocked laugh burst out of him. “What?”

“Do you have any idea how hot you look running on this thing,” Andrew said, punctuating every word with a kiss to Neil’s skin and Neil moaned. “Fuck, Andrew.”

And Andrew smirked. “I want to rim you yes or no?”

“Yes,” Neil arched into Andrew’s touch. “Yes, yes and yes.”

Andrew secretly loved the enthusiasm with which Neil expressed his consent. It made him feel jittery in the best way possible. He turned Neil sideways, bending him over the handlebar and sank to his knees, taking the booty shorts down with him. Andrew nipped at Neil’s left asscheek and slowly spread him out, pushing his face in and licking a fat, wet stripe over his entrance while Neil shivered and moaned brokenly, already dripping precome on the treadmill. When he moved to grip his cock, seeking some friction desperately, Andrew batted his hand away.

“No touching.”

Neil sobbed from the relentless pleasure that was taking him under and whimpered, biting his forearm to keep himself from getting any louder. When Andrew pressed his tongue in harder, he felt Neil’s thighs quake and suddenly he was coming with a drawn out moan, coating the floor with come. Andrew stood up, squeezing Neil’s ass and pulled him to his chest, and Neil collapsed in his arms.

“I feel like jelly,” he mumbled drowsily, pressing his face into Andrew’s chest, and Andrew kissed his sweaty curls.

“Neil.”

“Mm” was all he got in response.

“Neil.” A little more insistent this time.

Neil blinked his eyes open and looked at him with such an unguarded expression that Andrew felt like he was finally falling.

“I like chocolate doughnuts.” At Neil’s confused expression he added, “And coffee with sugar and cream. For breakfast.”

Neil’s looked stunned for a solid second before grinning up at Andrew, and then all hell broke loose.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU EAT CHOCOLATE DOUGHNUTS FOR BREAKFAST.”

Andrew silenced him with an open-mouthed kiss.

Neil Josten, love of Andrew’s life and the bane of his entire existence, kissed him back the same way he ran – hard, insistent and with his whole body.

**Author's Note:**

> SMUTTTTTTTT. Anyway, did you like? Come say hi, I'm on [Tumblr](https://alex-wh0.tumblr.com/) and on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/alex_wh0).


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